Til Death Us Do Part
by No1MournsTheWicked
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are getting married - what could possibly go wrong? SLASH WARNING! Established male/male relationship.
1. Honour and Disobey

_Hi! Welcome to my new short story! This was originally a one shot, then became a two shot, and is now a three - so its ever growing lol. Hope you all like it._

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><p>Til Death Us Do Part.<p>

Chapter one

Honour and disobey.

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><p>Harry shuddered as pain ripped through his abdomen, trying desperately not to move but unable to stop the convulsions. He bit down on his lip and the coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth.<p>

His head was lifted off the cold ground it lay upon, his hair was stroked and words of comfort were being whispered.

"You can have green…I was…I was only…." he cried, knowing someone was there but unsure who. He felt himself slipping away, could feel death's grip wrapping its way around his body. The end was near - he was about to die…

Harry's eyes snapped open. For a moment the surrounding darkness closed in on him like a suffocating blanket, smothering him to the point he gasped desperately for breath. Perspiration slid down his face and pooled against the soft pillow beneath his head, causing his hair to stick uncomfortably to his forehead.

He glanced around the room compulsively, forcing his eyes to adjust to the darkness as he allowed his breathing to regulate. He knew deep in his heart that there was no danger, that it had just been a terrible dream and his body slowly began to relax as a result.

He slowly moved his hand across the bed until it bumped against warm flesh, and he brushed his fingers lightly against it to calm himself further. It had always helped to be close to someone after a nightmare, and even now that he was well into adulthood, it was no exception.

Turning his head slightly, his gaze fell on the pale outline of a face. Soft sparkling eyes glittered from the light of a streetlamp falling through the large window behind Harry, and it was easy to make out an expression. Harry's heart fell into normal rhythm from the tenderness and understanding.

"You okay?" whispered Draco, tenderly. His hand moved across and captured Harry's. "Nightmare?"

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He felt silly now that his heart rate had settled down, and he realised he must have called out in his sleep, resulting in waking the blonde beside him. He shook himself, clearing his consciousness of the silly dream he'd had.

"I'm fine, just a dream." Harry breathed, turning on his side and facing the other man. "Nothing to worry about." He added.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Draco asked, squeezing Harry's hand for encouragement.

Harry's lips pulled at the edges in a gentle smile, "Honestly, it's nothing." he reassured, ignoring the swell of guilt in his stomach. The dreams he'd been having all his life were easy to deal with now, but they would frighten his partner - he didn't need to hear the multitude of deaths Harry had suffered in his dreams.

Draco smiled knowingly, and he leaned across to place a soft kiss on the end of Harry's nose. Harry breathed in the leftover scent of Draco's aftershave that lingered on his skin, and he felt his body shift closer to the other man. Draco chuckled lightly, his hand releasing Harry's and coming to rest instead on his hip.

"You lie," He whispered, "but I'll forgive you. As long as you're not getting cold feet?"

Harry considered the only words spoken in his dream, something about having green. He wondered if maybe it was a sign of cold feet - after all, Draco had been whining constantly about having green waistcoats for the wedding , much to Harry's annoyance, and he suspected that his sub-conscience was trying to tell him something. Though he knew he wasn't getting cold feet. Maybe somewhere in his head he knew he'd only agree to green if her were on his deathbed.

"My feet are fine." He smiled, pulling Draco closer and cradling him against his chest. "Now stop worrying and go back to sleep."

It wasn't long until Draco's breathing evened out as sleep took a hold of him, and Harry let his mind drift.

He was actually getting married to Draco Malfoy. It was a concept that still made Harry beam and scoff in the same instance. Not in a million years would he had thought that one day he'd be marrying his school-boy nemesis - even now the idea seemed ridiculous. But at the same time it made sense, it worked - they worked. They were two parts of the same whole - they complimented each other perfectly (even if at times they clashed disastrously) and now they were willing to express to each other - and the world - just how perfect they were for one another.

Though, of course, that didn't mean they always got on. Harry recalled the argument that had taken place earlier that day, the one that had probably led to his disturbing dream.

"Oh, are you kidding me? I would rather die than wear green to my wedding!" Harry had grumbled as they both climbed into their car to begin yet another journey to a wedding venue. They had so far disagreed on every decision, and he was scowling to himself as he fastened his seat belt knowing that he'd yet again be bullied into agreeing with his soon-to-be ball and chain.

"Don't tempt me, Harry, because I can make it happen and look like an accident!" Draco had retorted, leaning forward to fiddle with the stereo, "besides, you'll do as you're told or I'll make you marry a Weasley instead." He'd added with a smirk.

Harry's scowl deepened. "Maybe I'll take you up on that, at least I'll have a quiet life!" he'd sniped, glaring at the road ahead.

It was nonsense, he was quite aware of this, however he couldn't help the dig. Draco had always had an unnecessary jealous streak when it came to The Weasleys. Though, Harry reasoned, George's pointed flirting and Ginny's moony eyed stare would aggravate anyone, least of all his boyfriend. However, Draco wasn't taking the bait today. He merely rolled his eyes.

"A quiet life surrounded by the ginger posse? I very much doubt that." Draco laughed easily causing Harry's scowl to deepened. "Anyway, we've only got another 3 weeks until the wedding and I want it to be _spectacular_ - so can you please start seeing things my way. It would make the process a lot simpler" he finished petulantly. It was common knowledge that Draco had a problem with the word 'No'. Unless, of course, he was the one saying it.

"Oh I have no doubt that it'll be a _spectacle_." Harry grumbled, checking his mirrors as he navigated round a roundabout, "That's the problem - I want it simple and quaint." he admitted quietly.

"Well, you can carry on wanting! I only plan on getting married once, and I plan on doing it in style. We'll do your boring quiet wedding when we renew our vows." Draco allowed with an uninterested wave of his hand.

Harry blanched, his head whipping round to take in Draco's expression. "What do you mean 'renew our vows'? You know, Draco, it would be nice if you'd perhaps ask my opinion on things before you just go ahead and make decisions! At this rate, I might decide not to show up." An empty threat, they both knew this.

"Over your dead body!" Draco scoffed. "If you stand me up, I'll make Voldemort look tame." He added with a dark look in Harry's direction.

Harry frowned, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "Tasteful, Draco."

A small sigh filled the car. "I love you, Harry." Draco said softly, his hand reaching across and brushing over Harry's white knuckles, "I just want our wedding to be perfect. I've waited to marry you since we were 16 - it's all I've ever wanted."

Harry was taken aback by Draco's sudden change in direction. He glanced at his boyfriend and found that his expression was as earnest as his words. He gripped Draco's fingers and held them against the steering wheel. "I'm sorry. I know all of this wedding stuff means a lot to you, I should be more understanding. I love you, too, baby - there is nothing on this planet that could stop me from racing down that aisle to marry you." he added with a smile.

"You promise?" Draco asked, his tone uncharacteristically unsure.

"I promise." Harry smiled, squeezing Draco's fingers as he focused back on the road. "And I'll think about the green."

He distantly recalled the small, triumphant smile that had pulled at Draco's lips, one that was mirrored by Harry he drifted off to sleep.

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><p>Weeks passed by in a blur of Wedding magazines and cake tasting, and at times Harry wondered what he and Draco would actually talk about once they were married and they no longer had a million things to plan. He clung to the idea that he may actually get a bit of peace. Though, with Draco as a husband that seemed very unlikely.<p>

He did get occasional moments of relaxation, though. Once a week he, Draco, Hermione and Ron would meet up at their favourite restaurant and he always smiled as he gazed at his fiancé conversing easily with his two best friends - friends who had once been tortured and ridiculed by said fiancé. It hadn't been an easy road to friendship for Draco, Hermione and Ron - far from it! It had taken every ounce of persistence and cunning Harry possessed to, at first, force a civil understand between them, and then nurture a blossoming friendship.

Now it felt as though Draco had always been a part of their tight knit unit - and Harry couldn't be happier. Even if it meant that Draco now had allies - allies who knew how to break Harry…and who regularly succeeded in doing so.

"An ice sculptor would be perfect centre piece, Draco - I just don't see why _he's_ opposed to it." Hermione's voice floated into Harry's consciousness. The way she said 'he's' put him instantly on guard.

"_He_ has a name, and _he_ can be opposed to whatever _he_ likes considering it _his_ wedding as well!" Harry informed with a scowl, picking up his wine glass and cursing when he realised it was empty. With a sour expression he plonked the glass back down, avoiding eye contact with the other occupants of the table. He now realised why Draco and Hermione had been so intent on going to a restaurant to finalise the wedding arrangements - it was to impair any risk of Harry objecting to any secret plans and causing a scene. Sneaky bastards!

Ron, who was about as interested in wedding arrangements as he was in re-reading A History of Magic, tilted a wine bottle over Harry's glass and emptied the contents inside, his eyes twinkling with mirth. The corner of his mouth pulled upwards when he caught Harry's eye. "Mate, the best thing you can do is just let them get on with it and think about the honeymoon. It will make life a lot less stressful." he advised knowingly.

"If I let them get on with it, Ron, I'll end up bankrupt and humiliated." Harry said desperately, his eyes begging Ron to understand and help.

"Maybe so, but at least you'll have a quiet life." he replied with an apologetic shrug, before he pushed Harry's glass towards him. "Plus, it helps to drink a lot until the wedding is over."

"Wonderful." Harry sighed with disappoint, reaching for his glass and taking a large gulp. "Bloody brilliant."

Harry scowled for the entirety of the meal and refrained from agreeing to any type of arrangement. He knew that he was being coerced into decisions and he made it his mission to be involved properly - meaning his opinions would be valued, respected…and at least considered!

Draco had, surprisingly, let Harry sulk. He hadn't mentioned on the way home that he was annoyed or upset by Harry's behaviour - he had simply held the door open for Harry before gently closing it and walking into the kitchen, asking Harry if he wanted a cup of tea on the way.

Harry followed him, wondering when the blonde would explode in a fit of temper that he wasn't getting his own way, but Draco merely carried out his task, smiling at Harry softly when he made eye contact.

"You know, I've been thinking, Harry-" he announced gently as he stirred the sugar into his tea.

"Don't hurt yourself." Harry quipped without meaning to, shaking his head when he realised his error. He'd get the silent treatment now, for sure.

However, Draco visibly ignored the comment - his lips pursing slightly before a small smile reappeared. Harry frowned worriedly. Surely this couldn't mean anything good.

Draco turned and approached Harry, placing his tea cup on the counter beside him. His body was so close he could feel Draco's heartbeat pumping through his chest. He realised the closeness wasn't an accident when Draco's lips pressed against his ear.

"I was thinking…that maybe you were right. I shouldn't make decisions without you." he purred, his tongue brushing against Harry's earlobe and sending a shiver down his spine. "And to make it up to you, perhaps we should have an early night…?" he added, his hands sliding over Harry's hips and pulling his pelvis forward to crush against his own - aware of the erection that would press firmly into Harry's own.

"I'm listening." Harry breathed, completely unaware of the trap he was walking so blindly in to. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Draco's neck, totally overcome by his sudden arousal. He felt Draco smile against his cheek.

"I thought…I could do that thing you like with my tongue…" The blonde whispered seductively, tilting his head back so that Harry had further access to his neck. He grinned when he felt lips and teeth claim the milking skin beneath his collar.

Harry shuddered pleasantly, ecstatic by his turn of fortunes. He ran his fingers through the back of Draco's soft hair, forming a fist and gently pulling his head back so he could kiss the blonde man's Adam's apple. "I'd like that." he panted between kisses, grinding his erection even harder against Draco's.

Draco whimpered for effect, causing Harry to moan deliciously. "And all I ask for in return…-" Draco whispered, grinding again, "All I want for such pleasure…is an ice sculptor as a centre piece - is that really so much to ask for?" he asked timidly.

Harry paused in his ministrations for a fraction of a second, and Draco knew that the penny had finally dropped. He waited for the fall out, for Harry to remove himself and complain about being coerced by a sly Slytherin. But with a wild growl, the lips, once again, began attacking his neck, and the hands continued to grip and manipulate.

"You'll be the death of me!" Harry surrendered, dragging Draco towards the stairs with lust in his eyes.

The blonde laughed wickedly, overjoyed that his plan had worked. Sure, he now had to blow Harry's mind in the bedroom, but that really wasn't of a chore. "What a way to go though, huh gorgeous?" he asked saucily before he allowed Harry to tow him up the stairs.

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><p>Harry smiled happily as he made his way towards the exit of the Ministry. It had been a very long day and he was glad it was finally over and he could now go home for snuggles with Draco. The wedding was fast approaching now and he was looking forward to finalising the surprise he had arranged for Draco with a seamstress the next morning.<p>

Hermione, who walked along side him, frowned when she saw the conditions outside. "Harry, the weather is horrendous - why don't you just apparate home?" she asked bemusedly, standing in a line for Floos in the atrium of the Ministry. Harry shook his head solemnly, casting a longing gaze toward the apparation point.

Sighing deeply, Harry turned back to Hermione. "No, I somehow found myself being dragged into blackmail - If I use magic for simple things such as transport then he's allowed to use magic for simple _wedding_ things such as 100ft ice sculptors and banquet style catering. I'd rather get the tube and have a buffet."

Hermione laughed and shook her head good-naturedly, "He'll be the death of you, Harry." she chuckled, hitching her bag up onto her shoulder, "If the cold doesn't get to you first." she added with a smile.

"Don't I know it." Harry replied, leaning in and kissing Hermione on the cheek. "See you in the morning."

"Take care…and buy yourself a coat!" She called as he begun walking towards the exit.

He turned to face her and walked backwards, "What? And hide this physique?" he asked, indicated his fitted white shirt hugging his slender torso, "Never!" he laughed and waved goodbye as Hermione stood in the fireplace and disappeared in a burst of green flames - an amused smile pulling at her lips.

He laughed to himself as he made his way out of the ministry, and shook his head as the moment his mobile phone had reception it began ringing. Rolling his eyes as he saw his home number on the screen, he took a deep breath and answered - ready to be yelled at for his latest infraction.

"Hello handsome!" He called into the speaker and winced as Draco's voice reprimanded him - loudly.

"Are you trying to drive me insane? Really, Harry, because it feels like you are!" Draco asked, obviously irate.

Harry shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips, "Of course not - you're already there." he quipped, running across the road toward the underground. His boyfriend's resulting growl indicated he was in no mood to be messed with. Harry's smile widened.

"Look, Harry, the green looks delicious with the light grey - I just don't understand why you aren't coming around to my way of thinking?" Draco complained, his voice raising an octave. Harry knew the blonde would whine and whine until he got his way, however he had found after years of being with Draco that he needed to at least stand his ground for a little while - other wise the blonde would get away with murder.

"Will you give it a rest with the green - I'm a Gryffindor, treachery is a Slytherin quality!" he retorted with a smirk, "Now, I'll see you when I get home - I'll be about 20 minutes." he added, jogging down the steps to the tube.

"We're going to talk about this, Harry - I will get my own way!" Draco informed insolently before hanging up.

Harry rolled his eyes as the line went dead, and smiled as he pocketed his phone. Hermione was right - that man would be the death of him. He made his way down through the almost deserted underground, jogging on the spot to keep warm as he waited for his tube. He prayed to any god listening that the weather would warm up in time for the wedding - he was sure Draco would find some way to blame him if it didn't.

The uncharacteristic calm of the platform was eerie and Harry couldn't help but check over his shoulder as he stood alone. The platform was all but deserted. He could just see a couple sat at the other end, contentedly gazing at each other and laughing quietly. Harry smiled and thought of Draco.

"Give me your wallet." A voice demanded to his right. Shocked by the closeness of the stranger, Harry whipped around and gasped softly. The stranger, an untidy, hard looking man, gazed at him with wild eyes. "Give me your wallet, now!" he growled again, his tone gravely.

Harry was paralysed. He couldn't feel a single bone in his body. He gazed at the man before him with unadulterated confusion - he had no idea what was happening, and even less idea of what he was supposed to do. His wand sat forgotten in his calf holder, though he reasoned he would have had no way of retrieving it without causing the man to act against him. But he knew it was already too late.

The numbness ebbed away and he became aware of the pain, the pain that radiated through his midriff saturated any move he made with agony.

Harry slowly lowered his eyes to the wet red stain spreading across his white shirt. The blade the man had been holding against his side as he had first made his demand, the one that had plunged deep into Harry's stomach as he had spun round to face him, shook painfully in the attackers hand.

Harry's breaths came in short, sharp bursts, each one more difficult than the last.

"Give me your wallet!" The man growled again, pushing the blade in further, causing Harry to inhale sharply. He felt something hot rise up his throat and he coughed as it hit the back of his mouth. Tiny red droplets showered the strangers face and as Harry tried to focus on what it was, the station flickered before his eyes, and he felt himself slump further onto the knife as he fought to keep conscious.

"I…green…" he gasped painfully, blinking hard to try and focus on the man in front of him. His brain was fixed on the last conversation he'd had with Draco, and as the pain from his stomach spread through his body, shooting through his veins like an electric current, and he begun shaking as shock took hold of him, all he could think about was how he had denied his boyfriend something so trivial. "Green." he muttered again, uncontrollably.

The attacker snarled into his face, and somewhere between gripping Harry's shoulder and twisting the knife and Harry crying out in agony, the man flew backwards as an explosion of magic burst between them, throwing them apart. Harry stumbled unsteadily for a few seconds, gasping as the knife was savagely removed causing blood to gush from the wound on his stomach. He watched through a fog as the man scrambled to his feet and ran from the platform, leaving him there to bleed.

Time seemed to stand still as he swayed on the spot, staring ahead into the tube tunnel. It was still eerily quiet, and he distantly wondered if the loved-up couple from before had noticed anything.

He began to turn in their direction, and the sound of his muffled, pained cries were drowned out by the sound of the tube thundering down the track towards him. A blur of colour and sound made him unsteady on his feet and he crumpled, crying out as he hit the ground.

"Help me." he whispered into the air, shaking uncontrollably, causing the pain to redouble with every convulsion.

The train rattled to a stop, and Harry tried to focus on what was happening around him. Someone was speaking to him, cupping his cheek gently and applying pressure to his stomach. He whimpered and clamped his eyes shut, pleading to anyone listening that the pain would stop.

He could feel his shirt sticking to his skin as he laid on the cold ground. The concrete floor lost some of its chill as a warm pool seemed to leak around him. His head was lifted off the ground and placed on something soft, and he opened his hazy eyes to find himself surrounded by blonde hair. He instantly thought of Draco, and he tried to smile at him.

"Dray…Draco…?" he stuttered between laboured breaths. The answering voice wasn't right, too high, too feminine, but it didn't matter. At that point it didn't matter, he needed to talk to Draco.

"It's ok, sweetheart. The ambulance is on its way - you're going to be fine." the voice informed confidently, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"You can have green…I was…I was only…." he cried desperately, tears pooling in his eyes as he felt his consciousness being tugged away. His breathing kicked into overload as he struggled to move, and the woman gently pushed him back down.

"You're going to be fine, I promise. Just relax, sweetheart, or you'll hurt yourself more." The woman instructed. Harry couldn't listen, he could feel his limbs becoming heavier and he knew it was only a matter of moments before he'd be unconscious.

"Draco…I'm sorry…he can have green." he whispered desperately. "Please, tell Draco…he can have green - I'll let him have green…whatever he wants."

The hand brushed at his hair again, "You'll be able to tell him yourself, sweetheart."

Blackness surrounded him and any feeling was swallowed by it. "Please. Green." he whispered before he succumbed to the darkness.

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><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	2. For Better, For Worse

A/N - Hey guys :) Welcome to chapter 2! As you can probably tell I'm taking my sweet time updating...! Well, a lot have things have changed since I wrote Use Somebody - most prominent was the birth of my second child, Jasper, who is now 9 months old! - so I'm not as free to write as I previously was. Still, I love our Drarry, and though it may not seem that way judging by this chapter, I really want to try and expand on my writing style - after all, I don't want to have to tell the same story over and over again. So, please, stick with it even if you hate it (or me! lol) because Draco is gonna need us all! lol. Enjoy xx

WARNING! May be upsetting to some readers.

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><p>Chapter two<p>

For better, for worse.

Draco slammed around in the kitchen as the sound of the 10 o'clock news sounded from the T.V in the lounge. The dinner he had lovingly prepared - well, lovingly bought from a local restaurant and plated as though he had cooked it - was now sat in the bottom of the bin. After 2 and a half hours Draco had become so overcome with rage he had thrown it into the rubbish in a fit of annoyance. He now regretted that decision as his stomach rumbled in protest.

How could Harry be so late? 3 hours was a record, even for him! Draco could just see him, holed up at the Weasley/Granger residence, being fawned over by that Mudblood as he ate junk food and played computer games with the ginger idiot! He had done it before, said he was coming straight home and then taken a detour to the Gruesome Twosome's house for 'a file he urgently needed to read' or some other rubbish. It didn't take 3 hours to get a file - he was lazing around! And no doubt he'd blame the Public Transport - Draco cursed his stupid blackmail attempt.

As he finished loading the dishwasher, a knock sounded at the front door. Relief and fury smashed into him in equal measures, and he stomped towards it ready to crucify Harry for not only being late but for also forgetting his keys!

"Where the fuck have you been!" he yelled as he threw the door open, almost ripping it off its hinges. He paused stupidly when he was greeted with, not Harry, but two sombre looking muggle police men stood awkwardly on the door step.

"Are you Mr Draco Malfoy - partner of Mr Harry Potter?" One of the officers asked when Draco failed to greet them. He stood frozen, unable to make his brain work.

"Yes." he replied, his voice quivering. Panic washed through his veins like poison, turning his blood to ice. "Why?"

The police man glanced at his companion, "I'm P.C Radcliff and this is P.C Rowling, may we come in please, sir?" he asked Draco, his tone gentle. Delicate.

"No." Draco retorted harshly, his breathing becoming shallow. "Where's Harry - what's going on!" he demanded gripping the door frame as his legs wobbled beneath him.

"Please sir, may we come in?" P.C Radcliff asked again, this time he sounded pleading, as though he wanted nothing more than to come inside and have a cup of tea. Draco ignored him and appealed to his partner.

"Where the fuck is my boyfriend - what the fuck is going on? Is he in trouble? Has he been hurt?" he asked desperately, knowing deep down that Harry probably was in trouble, and that it was highly likely that he was hurt.

"Mr Malfoy, I really think -" P.C Radcliff obviously wasn't getting it as he tried for a 3rd time to gain access, his face falling into a empathetic frown.

Draco reached the end of his tether. He could feel his magic building up inside him and any minute it was going to explode around him. "Tell me!" he yelled, his eyes feeling so wide they hurt at the edges.

P.C Rowling removed his hat and gazed at Draco with sympathetic eyes, "Mr Malfoy, I'm sorry to inform you that we believe Mr Potter was involved in a mugging at Kings Cross Underground station earlier this evening." he said clearly, his voice portraying pity.

Draco's stomach turned uncomfortably, "Oh my god! Oh my god - is he ok? Was he hurt? Oh fuck, of course he was hurt because you're here! Was he badly hurt, Merlin, this isn't happening! Which hospital is he at?" He rambled, grabbing his coat from the hook beside the front door and pulling his arms through the sleeves.

"Mr Malfoy," the officer said softly, trying to get Draco's attention again as the blonde searched his pockets for his keys, "Mr Malfoy, please." Draco focused on him again, his breathing shallow as he imagined Harry laid up in a hospital bed or in a police cell. "Mr Malfoy, I'm sorry, but Mr Potter received fatal injuries. He was pronounced dead on arrival to hospital."

Draco froze midway through pulling up his zip. He stared at the officer in silence, every thought that had been in his brain completely abandoning him. He couldn't work out what Rowling had just said to him - it didn't make sense. He couldn't even process the sentence because it made absolutely no sense.

"What?" he whispered, his body starting to shake uncontrollably, "I don't understand, what are you talking about? What do you mean?" he asked, half annoyed and half terrified.

"Mr Potter was attacked at Kings Cross Underground station. We believe it was a mugging gone wrong. Mr Potter received…a…knife wound to his abdomen. The paramedics tried their best to revive him, but he was already gone before they could help him. I'm terribly sorry, Mr Malfoy."

"No. No, no, no, you're wrong - you're wrong! It's not him, it's someone else. It's not him!" Draco cried, his eyes stinging as they filled with salty tears. No, Harry wasn't…it was impossible - he was The Boy Who Lived, he was Harry Potter! "No."

"Is there anyone we can contact for you, a friend or a relative?" One of the men asked. Draco couldn't tell who it was, he was too far gone in his grief. He melted to the ground, a howling cry ripping through him.

"No! Please, tell me you're wrong. Please!" he begged.

The officers stood around, apparently unsure whether to leave him in the state he was in. They mumbled words of comfort and information that barely registered, and introduced the Family Liaison Officer when she arrived. Draco cried himself hoarse, slumped against the door frame, the winter air barely touching him. How could anything touch him now?

He was eventually convinced to move into the lounge where he was placed on his couch. The Liaison Officer explained what had happened to Harry's body and the search for his attacker, but Draco tuned her out. He didn't want to think of Harry as a victim, a victim who was laid on a slab in a morgue. Dead. He couldn't bare it.

"Hermione." He mumbled after a stretch of silence. His voice croaked as the words passed through his raw throat, "Hermione should know." He reached across to the telephone, unaware of how late the hour was as he dialled her number. It rang 3 times before a groggy Ron answered.

"What?" He asked grumpily, obviously just woken by the phone. "Do you know what time it is, Harry!"

"Weasley! You and Granger need to get here now. You have a key." he whispered. Ron seemed a bit thrown by hearing Draco's voice at the end of the line.

"Key? Do you have Muggles there?" he asked, and Draco could hear Hermione being woken in the background and asking what was going on.

"Just get here now, Wealsey. Please." He whispered, aware that Ron would know from his voice that something was wrong. He hung up, not bothering to say goodbye. They would be there in seconds anyway, apparating straight to the door step.

Minutes later Hermione flew through the door, her hair in complete disarray wearing mismatched clothes, and a bright red Ron still wearing his pyjamas close behind her, "Harry?" they called as the entered the lounge and found Draco with the Liaison. "What's going on?" Hermione demanded.

She looked at Draco and her face visibly drained of colour. She shook her head softly, more to herself than at Draco.

"Why is there a police car outside?" Ron asked stupidly.

Draco stood unsteadily. He still wore his coat, though it did nothing to warm him. He was bone cold, and he was sure that he would never be warm again. He stepped towards Hermione, unaware how red and blotchy his face was, and whispered to her in his gravely, rough voice. "Harry didn't come home from work."

Hermione frowned and turned to Ron who frowned in return. "He left work the same time as I did, about 7pm, he said he was headed straight home. Have you tried The Burrow?" Hermione asked, turning her eyes to the Liaison watching from her perch on the couch.

"He's dead." Draco choked, disgusted as the words left his mouth. "He was…he was sta…stabbed!" he fell to his knees and cradled his head as another round of agonised tears assaulted him.

Hermione and Ron stared at him with wide eyes, neither seemingly able to process what he had just told them. The Liaison took over, stepping forward and offering for Hermione and Ron to take a seat. They were obviously as stunned as Draco had been.

"Harry? Are you…you're not serious! Our Harry can't be…" Hermione stuttered disbelievingly. "It's impossible."

Banging footsteps thundered up the stairs and seconds later they could hear Ron vomiting noisily in the bathroom. Draco wondered if he felt sick, too, but he could feel nothing. He was as dead as Harry was.

From the confines of his grief, he heard the liason inform Hermione that Harry would need to be formally identified and Hermione agree to do it, and he finally pulled himself back to reality. "No. No, I want to see him! We don't even know if it is him! I want to see him, now!" He demanded, swiping at his face as more tears spilled over his cheeks. "Now."

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><p>The ride to the hospital didn't pass by in a blur like it did in muggle movies, it didn't fast forward so quickly that a blink of an eye would render it missed. No. It passed slowly, and Draco catalogued every building and car they passed, every face that flashed by the window. The street lights hurt his tender eyes and the hum of the engine roared like a lion in his ears.<p>

He continued cataloguing every detail as he was led from the car to a room in a hospital that he had never wanted to enter. The clinical smell didn't turn his stomach because nothing could touch him by this point. He sat in a chair that he assumed was supposed to be comfortable but felt like stone and stared at the door that concealed the love of his life.

A woman who worked for the hospital was sat beside him, explaining what he would see and trying to prepare him for it. He didn't hear a word she said.

Then it was up to him. He was left to take as much time as he needed to say goodbye to the man he had planned to live out his days with.

He knew he couldn't do it, knew he couldn't walk through the door and see Harry lying lifeless on a table. It would kill him. He convinced himself after a while that it wasn't Harry, that the police had made a mistake. There was just no way that Harry Potter - the boy who lived - the man who defeated the darkest wizard of all time could be killed by a muggle! It was laughable.

Time passed in lulls. A collection of hospital staff and the police liaison had tried to talk him into making a decision - whether to see Harry or go home and come back when he was ready. But he didn't move, didn't respond, and didn't commit. He just stared at the door, his mind running through the last conversation he'd had with his fiancé - his brain unhelpfully supplying him with the promise that Harry would be home, 20 minutes and he'd be home.

"Excuse me?" a female voice interrupted his blank staring. Draco didn't turn to look at the woman. "I'm sorry to intrude, sweetheart. Am I right in believing you're Draco?" she asked timidly.

Draco nodded stiffly, still too far removed from the world to respond properly.

The woman seemed to dither, apparently unsure whether to sit or stay standing. After a moment she sank slowing into the seat beside him. Her hand crept across the distance between them and rested on top of Draco's. He realised after a moment that he should shake the stranger off, that her clammy hands felt like fire against his ice cold skin, but he couldn't bring himself to do it - he couldn't move.

"My name's Emma. I was at the tube station. I was with…I was with Mr Potter when he…passed." she stammered softly, emotion heavy in her tone.

Draco's head whipped around, his hair falling in disarray around his face. The woman, Emma, gazed at him with frightened, red-ringed eyes. She must have been in her 30s, but she looked older - her crumpled expression and haunted eyes aged her significantly. For the first time since he'd been informed about Harry, he wondered what he looked like - he wondered if he looked older than his years too.

His breathing was ragged as he waited for her to continue, and he felt his eyes sting with impending tears. "You were with him?" he gasped, his throat constricting around the words.

Emma nodded slowly, her hand gripping Draco's. "I tried to help him, but he…he was too…" she paused, unsure of what to say, so she changed direction. "He asked me to give you a message."

Draco swallowed and clamped his eyes shut. "No. No, please don't - please. It's not my Harry. You have no message -" he begged, "Please."

Emma remained silent, though her hand shook against his own. Soft hitched breaths indicated that she was silently crying. Draco glanced at her and found she was still watching him and he realised how important it was to her to relay the message she had been given.

He nodded for her to continue.

"He said 'You can have green. You can have what ever you want.'" she whispered clearly, tears falling silently over her pale cheeks. "He was desperate for you to know."

Draco felt his heart turn to dust - his entire body turned to ice and he waited for it to shatter. He wanted to die, he wanted to be dead so he wouldn't have to experience the agony he was feeling. He wanted Harry!

"He was so brave. And he didn't suffer, it was very quick." Emma hiccupped.

Draco couldn't listen to any more. He needed to see for himself, needed to see that it wasn't his Harry - that what this woman was saying was meant for someone else. He stood abruptly, causing Emma to gasp with surprise. "My Harry isn't dead. You've got the wrong person." he informed harshly, glaring at her with repulsion. "And I'll prove it."

With arrogance and desperation spurring him on, Draco shuffled towards the door, his eyes planted on the silver handle. They were saying Harry was on the other side of the door, that he was just inside the next room - and the thought that this might be true terrified Draco. He didn't want to see him laying on a table, naked and empty and dead. He didn't want the proof to be in front of him, for him to be unable to deny it - that his boyfriend, the love of his life, the saviour of his entire world…was dead.

Ignoring the woman behind him watching, he put his shaking hand on the handle and it rattled at his touch. He clenched his puffy eyes closed and took the deepest breath he could manage. The smell of death clung to the air, clung to him like a bad smell, and he wretched as it entered his lungs. He felt infected by it, as though it were sucking out any of the life that was left inside him.

He knew Emma was waiting for him to fall apart, and he forced himself to stay strong, to try and get through this. Somehow.

He opened the door and slowly stepped inside, his eyes pinned on the body laid in the middle of the room. A blanket was pulled up to the man's neck; a plain, white, crease-free sheet, stretched across him, showing every contour of his body. His face was an odd grey colour and stood in stark contrast beneath the mop of black unruly hair splayed around his head. His lips were so pale he could barely make them out, and his eye lids had lost their soft lavender colour. They were grey…just like everything else.

Draco walked slowly towards the body, his face unable to form any type of expression. He was focusing on remembering to breathe and stay standing at the same time, and it was becoming more difficult with every second that ticked by.

He drew up beside the bed and gazed down, his eyes sweeping over the man's lifeless face. It wasn't Harry. There was nothing of his Harry in this strangers face. There was no warm smile or exasperated frown, no charisma, no heroic aura. Nothing.

But the longer he looked at the deceased man, the less able he was to deny it. It _was_ Harry's face. Those were his lips, his hair, his jaw line. Those were his biceps beneath the sheet, those were his perfectly aligned hip bones and knobbly knees. That was his lightening bolt scar on his forehead. It _was _Harry. _His_ Harry.

Huge gasping sobs climbed up his throat as he reached forward and touched his hair, as he ran his fingers down Harry's ice cold face, and he howled at the top of his lungs. A guttural, agony filled howl that hurt his own ears.

"No. Please, Merlin, please -" he cried, collapsing against Harry's chest, clutching his body close to him, desperate to melt into him and forget - forget that he was dead. "Not Harry, not my Harry! Please!" he begged, "Please, Harry, please don't leave me!"

Tears seeped across the sheet leaving water marks in its wake, and he tore it away so he could lay against Harry's bare chest. He wretched when he caught sight of the stitched up wound across his stomach, physically shaking as he stared at it. Oh, god he would have suffered, he realised - he would have been in so much pain. He would have had to wait to die, knowing that it was coming, knowing that he didn't have long left.

The sobs redoubled as he imagined Harry laid dying on the platform. It tore him apart, literally broke his heart into a thousand pieces knowing that he wasn't with him - wasn't there when he was laying helpless on cold concrete.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I'll change, I promise. Just please, don't leave me." he begged, melting to ground, "I haven't had you long enough!" he whimpered.

To Be Continued…


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